


A Scottish Night

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Fear of Discovery, Kilts, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Party, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: They're at a gala in Scotland so of course Watson wears a kilt.





	A Scottish Night

It is true that I am not the most observant man, especially in comparison to my companion. However, knowing him as I did, it was easy to see the affect my kilt was having on him.

We were at a gala in Scotland on invitation, and, as I had my family roots in the land, I was wearing traditional dress. I’d seen the way his eyes were drawn to my calves when I’d stepped out of my room this evening. Felt the way he came over to make some slight adjustment to my tie, as if he needed to breathe me in and convince himself that I was indeed standing before him, and not simply an apparition.

As we were alone I leaned in and gave him the barest kiss before stepping back and examining myself in the mirror, watching in the reflection as he adjusted himself before picking up his gloves. I turned and offered my arm. He accepted and we stepped out to join the gala, already well in progress going by the music drifting up from below.

We were staying in the home of our host, an older gentleman and life-long bachelor. Holmes had helped his niece out of a spot of trouble some time earlier. Perhaps it was in gratitude for this that we’d been given adjacent rooms with a door between them. Perhaps it was because of the dear friend he, too, kept close at hand.

The gala was being thrown in celebration of the niece’s daughter’s coming of age, and so there were no shortage of men younger than myself, also in traditional attire. But my Holmes only had eyes for me. Even as he parted from me and circulated the room, I could feel him watching me. I found an old country doctor, also a former military man, and we fell into a comfortable conversation.

The doctor excused himself after a bit and I turned back towards the room. Holmes was in conversation with someone that could well be an Earl. The musicians started up a dance I knew, and so I found a married woman near to my age and we stepped out to the floor.

I have never been particularly graceful, even before my war injuries, but fortunately my partner was forgiving of my faults and at the end of the dance I returned her safely to her seat.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Doctor Watson?” Our host came to my side as I took a glass from the punchbowl.

“I am. Thank you very much for your hospitality,” I said.

“Perhaps tomorrow you and Mister Holmes would like to explore the grounds.”

“Some fresh air would do us both good, I am certain.”

“Yes, London can be so restricting at times.” Our host gave me a knowing smile before being pulled into another conversation. Were it anyone else, I might have been anxious at the implication, but I knew we were safe here. 

Besides, our host’s own boon companion was in conversation with Holmes across the room.

I made my way towards them. The man, Stephens, turned and smiled at me. “Doctor Watson, I’m so glad that the two of you accepted the invitation. We’ve heard much about Holmes’s abilities even here, and are always certain to get the Strand.”

“Thank you. I’m fairly certain that Holmes has an international reputation,” I said, giving him a smile. Holmes flushed under my attention.

“Perhaps you two would like to explore the gardens?” said Stephens, gesturing at the door. “It’s a lovely evening.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” I said, taking Holmes’s arm. “Thank you.”

Stephens nodded and I guided my detective out the door and into what was indeed a beautiful garden. Moving away from the house we passed through a hedge and soon enough found a bench in a dark and quiet spot.

“If I didn’t know better,” I murmured quietly so only he could hear. “I’d think our hosts are trying to ensure we have relations in the out of doors.”

“They are,” answered Holmes. “They enjoy providing a safe haven for men of a certain nature.” HIs hand reached out to caress my knee in the darkness. “I’ve dealt with them before. It’s why he sent his niece to me for help.”

I couldn’t help but wonder just what sorts of dealings he’d had with them, but I quickly quelled any jealousy. After all, Holmes hadn’t been entirely innocent when we first came together and neither had I, but whatever happened before didn’t matter now. 

His finger slid underneath the wool of my kilt to my thigh.

“Holmes,” I asked. “Are we quite alone?” My heart beat fast in my chest. After all, the house wasn’t very far and anyone else could take the same garden path we had.

“At the moment,” he said, putting down a handkerchief before slipping to his knees before me and lifting my kilt.

Foolhardy, certainly, no matter the inclinations of our hosts. But I made no move to stop him and bit back a moan as he took me into his mouth. I toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, knowing that I could get him in disarray later.

“That’s enough,” I murmured after only a minute or two. 

He pulled back, clearly disappointed, but, at least, for now, willing to obey. He got to his feet and wiped off his knees.

“Soon enough,” I promised, resting my hand on the small of his back.

He nodded and straightened my clothes, giving me a secret smile as we headed back inside.

**

Finally, the evening came to an end and we were able to retire. I remained dressed as I dimmed my light and listened to the rest of the house settle in. 

Holmes opened the door between our rooms as soon as it was safe to do so. He’d changed into his nightshirt but looked at me with open hunger as he saw I was still dressed.

“I believe there is something you started earlier,” I said, taking a seat and spreading my legs. Holmes went to his knees before me, again swallowing my prick.

This time I allowed myself free reign to run my fingers through his hair, though I kept quiet as I could. The house may have been welcoming, but we were not the only guests. I allowed him to go on for a few long minutes, bobbing his head gracefully. His lips and tongue were good for far more than just deductions.

“Sherlock,” I murmured softly.

He pulled back and blinked up at me.

I leaned down to kiss him and he moaned against my lips. I stood, helping him to his feet and led him to the bed, bending him over the edge of it and pushing up his nightshirt.

Holmes braced himself in anticipation. I took a bottle of oil from my bag and coated my fingers, keeping a hand on the small of his back. My Holmes opened beautifully beneath my fingers. He muffled himself in the bedsheets, hands clinging to the blankets, but trusting me to take care of him.

And I always would.

Judging him prepared enough, I removed my sporran, then lifted my kilt and slicked myself, knowing he craved the drag of wool against his bare skin. 

Holmes moaned as I pressed into him. I grasped his hips, moving with sure strokes that I knew made his knees weak, though he held himself up as best he could. His nightshirt had ridden up and I nipped at his shoulder through the thin material, wanting to mark him as my own. 

“John,” he groaned, letting me know how close he was.

I reached around to take him in hand, slowing my own thrusts as I stroked him, working his natural slick down his shaft. I pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket and caught the mess as he spilled over my hand.

Once I’d worked him through, I grasped his hips again. I quickly became erratic as my own peak rushed upon me. 

I folded over him, holding him tightly, kissing the nape of his neck. Holmes smiled and turned his head, squeezing my hand. I knew entirely the meaning of that gesture and kissed him again, only reluctantly pulling away.

Holmes rolled onto his back, watching as I removed the rest of my kit. “You should wear that in London sometime,” he said quietly.

“Perhaps I will,” I said, carefully putting it away and reaching for my own nightshirt.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he said, scooting back on my bed. “You always fall asleep first anyway.”

I leaned down to kiss him as I climbed into bed, not in any mood to argue. 

He tucked himself against my side, running soothing fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and sleep indeed came quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Beltainfaire for the readover.
> 
> And she [wanted me to write this](http://beltainefaerie.tumblr.com/post/173623178753) :)
> 
> You can find me on twitter and tumblr at merindab


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